Darkness.
Darkness was all Drock could see. He was still in the closet at the Dark Dragon's Den.

“I'm dead.” said the Dragon Master. He blinked again, trying to recal the last thing he had seen.
BloodVaine!
“Well Drock, I'm not surprised you're dead. You were in way over your head. Still...I thought that spell might have saved me.”

Drock slowly reached out his hand until it met the door in front of him. Wood? Drock felt the latch and swung the door out into a dimly lit chamber.

“I'm not dead!” Drock thought, surveying his surroundings. “That spell did the trick after all! But where am I now?”

He left the chamber and stepped into a maze of tunnel like corridors. “It feels like a cave.”
~
In the lower hall of the Dragon's Den, the Head Breeder sat sipping a pint of dragon's milk in front of a roaring fire and listening to the rumbling sounds of dragon's below him.

It was good to be in doors in weather like this. The Head was like a dragon in that respect. He didn't like the cold. It made him sleepy and irratable. Just like it would for any cold blooded creature.

The man blew the steam off the top of his mug. He liked his dragon's milk hot and with a dash of the real thing too. Leaving his room, the Head Breeder wandered into the watch- way. A hall seperating the worker's quarters from his chamber and and the others above. Lord Void had been stationed in one of them a few months ago, but he had left and the Head Breader hadn't received so much as a teleharm from him since then.

“G'day sir.” said the guard in the watch-way. “How's the tinder pile holding up in your room? I can have some more sent up if you nee--

The guard trailed off into silence, starring over the Head Breeder's shoulder. He turned, taking a swig of his brew as he did so. But the dragon's milk went sputtering out from surprise as the breeder set his eyes on Drock.

Now Drock was quite a sight, usualy. With his bushy beard and different colored eyes. With his stout frame and bare chest. And with his turquoise medallion and the silver band on his head.

But now...now he was especially shocking. His skin was still bleached from his ride in the whale. The Nugaia spell had preserved him even down to that. And of course the splattered dragon's milk on his chest didn't help cover Drock's shocking looks at all.

It didn't help Drock's mood either, as it happened. And the sorcerer was so flustered he forgot to introduce himself.

“How on earth did you get in here?” the Head Breeder bellowed. He was very surprised by the stranger in his den and he joined the guard as he jumped on the dangerous looking sorcerer.

So started a brawl that passed from the watch-way into the workers quarters and went on to inculude every dragon breeder in the den.

In the end, after Jarvick showed up and got the situation in hand, there were many apoligies, and many concusions and cracked heads as well, for which the apoligies were given.

In the darkness only the faint radiance of torches beside the walls was the only source of refuge from the consuming obscurity. But what could be perceived, if just barely was a great hall with much mystery. Between the walls in the back of the room was a large wooded double door with a dark color of uncertainty. The walls themselves were grizzled black with graven images of devilish figures upon them. The floors were darker then the walls and with the gloom it was like standing over an abyss. And in the center of this gothic hall was a round table made like black marble and around it was where they stood....

Swift took of the clothes of Sargon and gave them to Aaylah. "Here, it will protect you better, where are your weapons?" "I don't know, but that doesn't matter, I'm in no shape to fight" "You're right, let's leave the place"

They went back to the Hunters Hall and stopped before they entered.

"How will we get trough all those soldiers who where feasting there?"
"We fight our way trough there"

As they wanted to charge in the Hall, they were surprised to see all soldiers killed and slaughtered.
In the middle of the room, Leonidas, Fraun and Strider were eating of the food that was left of the party that occured when Swift and Radjar came in. Swift went to get Aaylah and lay her on a table.

"Does anyone of you happens to have some medecins?"
"My god, sister, what have they done you?" Fraun said.
"We must get her to the Citadel soon, otherwise she will die"
"Then what are you waiting for, let's go!"

They quickly exited the building through the stables and left and the horses they took. They didn't rode long and they allready got some delay.
"Now what?" Swift said and got off his horse with his swords ready.
"Why are you trespassing these lands?"
"I need to get to the Citadel, if that's ok with you"
"It's ok, John" an elder man said from in the treeline.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Maximus, general in the army of the Bloody Dagger, we have a small hidden base nearby, you can rest there if you want"
"That will great, we have a serious wounded traveller with us and we would apreciate it if you could help her"
"Follow me, always glad to help a fellow rebel"

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:Bjarn hesitated, then agreed. Suddenly a scream ripped though the air, sounding hollow and ghost-like. Voolmark awoke with a jump and demanded, "What's that??"

Gib groaned. "That would be Peregal...and I think he just fell down the shaft I did when I helped that lady and blue fellow..."

Location: In the deep caves beneath the Neverwood

When Peregil awoke it was dusk outside and all the world about him was dark and cold. The cold of course came from the snow surrounding him. The snow that had saved his life. Slowly, Malder began to move, checking to see that all his systems were working. Legs, arms, hands all movable. They were stiff but unbroken. Mostly he was cold from the pile of snow.

It was large pile of snow, made during the blizzards by the snow that had collected from the open hole above. Lucky for Malder, it was soft, with plenty of air between the flakes. Malder pawed his way out of the drift and slid awkwardly down onto the ice. Ice? Suddenly Malder was gripped by a terrible fear that it would break and raced to the shore as fast as he could. Of course running in the dark isn’t smart and he slipped on the last bit of ice and landed with a thud on the rocky shore.

It was bad luck. Terribly bad luck for him. First being separated from the group, then just about freezing to death in the storm, at last falling down through some crumbled well and now stuck in the deepest, darkest, pit one could imagine.

Sitting up in the dark, Malder contemplated his mission. He had lied to Gib. “I was following you of course. To make certain you didn’t return." It wasn’t the truth. Of course that was one of the reasons he’d come. It was his reason for following the vile man. But it wasn’t why his mother had sent him. No, Emphria had sent him after Gib with a hole other objective entirely. She wanted him back.

Malder still couldn’t believe it, but it was the truth. She actually believed that that cad was her son!

She said that he looked just like his father. Just like Manus Belphinigib. Malder wouldn’t know anything about this of course, for he had never met the man. But still, even he was her son, how could she? How could she want him back after how he abandoned her? Malder didn’t understand it.

Of course he wouldn't have to do as she asked. If he came back and reported that this Gib person had fallen off some cliff or something, who was there to contradict him?

Then of course, there were the rest of the crook’s friends to consider as well. How did they play into this? Some quest they had said. Something about a lost temple and a never ending winter. Humph! Of all the ridiculous notions.

Still…they seemed pretty convinced of their story’s truth. Would they be doing this if it were a hoax? Oh but of course it must be some scheme or other. They were with Gib weren’t they?

“The biggest fools are those that believe their own lies.” Malder finally decided. And he began to feel his way up the shore.

Martin was now habitually visiting the “long rooms” as they were called – more properly known as the officer’s lounge. Now that his file had been pulled, he had been trailed by two DOSI agents everywhere he went. Now that Frederick was authorized to assassinate the general, he had carefully reviewed his every option and planned for every contingency. Martin was most likely aware that he was being trailed unfortunately – he was in the military after all and knew of DOSI’s existence and how it operated. Then again, not many seemed to know for certain of Martin being behind the riot that occurred a week ago now. Now that poisoning was the selected option, it had to be tested. There was no room for error and if Martin survived any attempt on his life, he would not allow another to happen. It was also known to Frederick that the general was a voracious consumer of tea. The combination was simple enough – the poison would be mixed in his drink.

Even now Frederick was walking down the circular stairwell that led to the dungeons. Behind him was a prison guard carrying a simple tray with a piece of stale bread, a bowl with a pitiful excuse for soup, and – a cup of the finest Legolander tea – imported from the islands far to the south. Reaching the bottom, both men began to walk down a corridor. On one side were brackets holding torches, while on the other was a row of solid wooden doors, each with a rusted metal tag denoting their number. This was the high security area of the dungeons. Contrary to the popular belief, there were not countless numbers of cells – rather, there were only ten reserved for spies, traitors, and other so-called “enemies of the state” whose crimes were not so severe as to warrant death yet not light enough for simple exile.

As of now, only seven of the cells were occupied. Making his way to the nearest one, Frederick opened a metal flap. Before he could reach for the food that the guard was about to hand to him, a largish wooden bowl shot out of the opening, right under the agent’s face. Frederick wrinkled his nose in revulsion as he looked directly down on the human waste and kicked the container away from him. The guard spoke in an apologetic tone. “I’m sorry sir, but number 4 is a rather disagreeable fellow. Now if you would just go to the ce…”
Frederick interrupted, his face showing a clear display of disgust “Just hand me the tray you idiot before I have you locked up here as well.”
Trembling, the guard handed the tray over and Frederick gently pushed into the cell. Closing the flap, he stood up, brushing the dust off his uniform as he did so. “I want you to report to me when the – experiment is complete. I also want a full literary on how long it takes, the symptoms, everything. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir” The guard was still shaken by Frederick’s comments earlier. DOSI agents were not known to joke.

With that, Frederick turned and began to make his way up the stairs, leaving the guard the unhappy task of cleaning up the mess from the spilt bowl.

In the darkness only the faint radiance of torches beside the walls was the only source of refuge from the consuming obscurity. But what could be perceived, if just barely was a great hall with much mystery. Between the walls in the back of the room was a large wooded double door with a dark color of uncertainty. The walls themselves were grizzled black with graven images of devilish figures upon them. The floors were darker then the walls and with the gloom it was like standing over an abyss. And in the center of this gothic hall was a round table made like black marble and around it was where they stood....

There were many of them in this place and they gave off a darkness that even dwarfed the very halls from which they had presided. Much of their faces were covered by the hoods of their blackened robs or cloaks; a few others wore helms of different shapes and sizes and black armor with dark red marking upon their chest plates.

At length one began to speak with much authority to the rest who had gathered.

“Let the meeting of the Cult of Shadows convene” he stated with a voice that echoed in the dark. He paused for a moment, and then continued in a deep eerie sound

“welcome Shadow Lords, I know many of you have already guested why I have called you all here today”.

The other cloaked figurers gave a nod.

“Then I will not waste time with useless blather. We all know the situation that is at hand, and because of it we must act before it is too late! His voice now booming with much conviction, “So now we must beg the question, which among us is able and has the courage to take up this perilous quest”.

These words brought a brief moment of stillness that left everyone reticent. But just before it seemed that the world had gone mute, another Shadow Lord broke the silence with these worlds:

“how can any of us hope to succeed in what has been set before us. This mission will claim our lives long before we reach its goal! It is folly to even attempt this precarious thing.”

Then another began: “like you said this goal has been set before us and it is because of fate that it is before us; it is fate that guides us, it is fate that protect us, it is fate that has shown us this path and if we deny it, then it is fate that will destroy us. Do not think that we have come this far by our own merit or skill. To do that will lead you down a path to a bitter end, just as it did to lord Blood Vane. No, we must have faith in things to come and accepted this quest as the great shadow has commanded us. No man is with out fate just as no shadow is with out light and to say other wise is heresy in the cult. Unlike the rest of you hypocrites I have faith in what we say and so I will volunteer my self for this task."

After saying this the voices of the masses began to deliberate about this purposel, but at last another spoke with a voice that bellowed in the hall which halted the others almost instantly, his voice was unlike any other, its sound was like a deep rumbling of thunder upon the high mountain, but this man’s voice (if he could even be called a man) was not his only aberrant attribute, for his stature was beyond any of the other shadow lords and though his face was covered by a thick helm his eyes still showed through with a dominating presents that glowed like twin yellow stars in the night sky.

And so he began: “how can any of us stand here idle and let this old fool go alone! No, I too am no hypercritic and I say to you now that I also will be one to takes up this task! But we will need troops and cooperation from the other shadow lords through the out the land of Demetryos. And yes this is a burden that must be carried out, for if we fail then it will undoubtedly lead to the ruin of the cult and to all that we have worked so hard to achieve."

There was a feeling of approval after hearing these words for they all knew if anyone could succeed in this mission then it would to be Theron.

Formendacil wrote:"Gentlemen, lady," he said as he rose, "this council is adjourned. I will leave the signed of the treaty until the morrow. Meanwhile, if any of you have issues which I have not addressed, you may apply for an appointment."

The rest of the delegates stood and exchanged glowers. No one felt they had gotten their fair share, not even the Forestmen delegate Mellaina Phylla, who had mostly kept quiet during the debates. As Sirion the Black Knight King huffed away, muttering with Theodore about the Black Falcons in a non-complimentary way, Karl slipped away quietly through another door. The Crusader ambassador also left with the scribes and bodyguards. This left Phylla alone with the Bull ambassador, Rulph Belricks.

Rulph was the stereotypical image of a Bull -- stocky frame, wind shoulders, long matting hair and unshaven face. However, he was less brutish and more precise with his words, and so was Lord Barbod's top pick as Bull Ambassador. Rulph was only 1/4 Bull, but he had been raised in the Bull culture all his life, permanently imprinting their mentalities upon his brain.

As Phylla stacked her papers, Rulph smiled and said gruffly, "Ye happy with the Emperor's decisions?"

"For the most part, yes." replied Phylla, "I understand not everyone's needs could be addressed properly, but I am disappointed the Forestmen, as well as the Wolfpack and the Dark Foresters, were mostly left out."

"That be your own fault, no offence meant." said Rulph, "You said nary a word most of the time. Besides, the Forestmen 'ave been able to get on their feet without much help from the Emperor...ye've already started trade relations with the Crusaders and thanks to that mage yer forests are regrown. That's sumthing to be proud of, methinks."

"Pleased, aye. I am saddened at the lost of the Bulls' ancient land, but the LEGOlanders gave up a lot for us, with those three isles. The Bulls may still be a small nation, but now we have four plots of territories, all of them islands and without borders to any other faction. That will reduce friction, though not get rid of it."

Rulph shoved the last of his papers into his satchel and continued, "I'd better be off to Lord Barbod at once. I do have a bad feelin' he won't like the news as much as I."

"Why is that?" queried Phylla.

"Lord Barbod, like most of 'is followers, are 100% Bull. They are fiercely patriotic, they believe their original land is their birthright, which might be true, but it might not. Bulls are famous -- or infamous -- for their stubbornness. If the Classic Emperor thinks his word will be enough to sway both the Bulls and the Black Falcons, he's making a mistake. Indeed, he's taken many steps forward and resolved some conflict, but the Bulls won't be completely satisfied until they have reclaimed their original land...or they die off. Though I hope persuade them otherwise. Us Bulls should be grateful to what we have. It is a wonderful gift the Classic Emperor has given the Bulls."

Actually there was. Luxus ran foreward, his face pale, his hands fumbling fore his Wolfpack amulet. The second the cold metal touched his bare skin it stuck tight, again sending a searing pain through the young lad. Engery was sucked from Luxus and another black cloud shot from his hand and decended upon the bloodwolves. Immediatly the foul creatures were devoured and Luxus blacked out, flailing face first into the snow.

Voolmark rushed forward to Luxus while Bjarn and Anardan kept their weapons out, just in case more creatures attacked. But none did. Luxus' amulet had taken care of all of them, but at a great cost.

"Tyco..." Voolmark swore as he rubbed Luxus vigurously, "That trinket acts like the Mana...to use power, it sucks engery out of the wielder...the megabloks thing nearly killed Luxus!"

Shainya rushed over and began to aid Voolmark while Sir Dractor limped up to converce with Bjarn.

"Bjarn, we've been cursed by bad luck sense day one, it's been a miricle no one's been killed yet...we should get down that well and find the Temple as soon as possible before Chodan knows what attacks us. Luxus can't keep chasing off those tyco wolves, and none of us are in the condition to battle a hoard of evil creatures!"

"Do it! We stand a better chance as their prisoners than trying to fight all forty or more of them."

Reluctantly, Elbadar and Jayko lowered their weapons with Quorandis. The thugs at the end of the street shrugged, and backed away from the mercenaries, although grumbling irritably as they did.

Firetresses' mercenaries surrounded them, and started to march them off to the Castle. Elwen had to be supported between Quorandis and Jayko, but she was conscious.

"We'll get out of this somehow," promised Quorandis.

They took a turn, and made their way up towards the castle. Suddenly, the company was beset by another party of men.

Twenty red-and-black clad samurai dove out of an alley at them. Elbadar recognised their leader.

"Kendo!"

Quorandis took immediate advantage of the situation. Grabbing Elwen and throwing her over his shoulder, he elbowed his way past the startled mercenaries, and dashed for an open doorway. Jayko tore after him.

Elbadar paused a moment before following suit. Instead of just tearing after them, he ducked as one of the samurai felled a mercenary, and then grabbed the fallen mercenary's heavy broadsword.

Carving a hole in the samurai barring his way, he dashed after Quorandis. They met in the alley behind the building.

"Let's get to the harbour," said Quorandis. "I'm ready to be quit of this city."

"I don't think we'll be finding passage all that easily," said Elbadar.

"Then we'll steal a ship," said Quorandis. "They're all criminals anyway. I'm not going to stay here a minute longer than we must."

"Fine, let's go steal a ship," said Elbadar. "I'll lead the way," he said, keeping the broadsword unsheathed. "Let's go."

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:"Bjarn, we've been cursed by bad luck sense day one, it's been a miricle no one's been killed yet...we should get down that well and find the Temple as soon as possible before Chodan knows what attacks us. Luxus can't keep chasing off those tyco wolves, and none of us are in the condition to battle a hoard of evil creatures!"

Sir Dractor didn't say anything about his own condition, not wanting to raise any false hopes, but he was improving. It would have shocked Bjarn to know, or even Voolmark, but Sir Dractor was an extraordinary man. With an extraordinary body. Not superhuman, by any means, but still...

If trouble held off for another couple days, he would be in fine condition, if not quite perfect. Taking off his platemail, he left it to go back to and clean, while in the meantime he went over to Luxus. Unlike himself, the boy did not have incredible stamina, the ability to bounce back from being drained or being hurt.

"How are you doing Luxus?" he asked the boy.

"I'm tired," said the boy, curled up on his bedding. "Really tired."

"With good reason," nodded Sir Dractor. "You've done an incredible amount today. More than anyone your age could be expected to do. How old are you?"

"Seven," said Luxus.

"I would never have believed it," said the warrior in all honesty. "I would have guessed you were quite a bit older. When's your birthday?"

Luxus puzzled over that for a moment. "I don't know," he said at last. "My last one was a very long time ago."

Sir Dractor recalled having talked to Aros quite some time before. It was close to a year since Luxus and his brothers had met for the first time. The boy must be more than eight by now. He said so.

"And I'm going to promise you something, Luxus," he said, sitting down beside the boy. "As soon as we're done with this quest, and we're back somewhere civilised, we're going to pick you a birthday, and celebrate it with style."

"Really?" asked Luxus.

"I promise," said Sir Dractor.

When Shainya went to put Luxus to bed an hour later, she found him already asleep, his head resting on the broad, leather-clad chest of the snoring Sir Dractor. One of the big warrior's arms were protectively clasping the small boy. The other was resting on the pommel of a dagger.